


The Best Gift

by Hekate1308



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: No one quite knew what had happened, only that agent Bordey had come in, punctual as usual, seen the officer on loan from MI6 and apparently started to scream.Death in Paradise Christmas story.
Relationships: Camille Bordey/Richard Poole
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	The Best Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!!!

If there was thing one could expect upon entering the Secret Service, many of its members would have stated, it was peace and quiet, at least in their headquarters. You learned early on not to draw attention to yourself.

Not so much today, however.

No one quite knew what had happened, only that agent Bordey had come in, punctual as usual, seen the officer on loan from MI6 and apparently started to scream.

“How _dare_ you! Do you even know what we went through when we thought – and you didn’t even call after you were out of danger! But of course you didn’t. It’s my own fault that I thought you cared about – about us and Saint Marie!”

Then followed a rather elaborate series of insults in French, then some more swearing, this time around in English.

The agents, who knew Camille rather well by now, took the appropriate measure of staying away from the conference room.

* * *

If there was one person Richard had believed he’d never set eyes on, it would have been Camille. After all, she had appeared perfectly happy on Saint Marie, and he knew that her mother loved having her live there again; so why should she have gone back to undercover work?

And so he hadn’t had the slightest suspicion that it would be her who’d come into the conference room this December morning. He’d taken an early flight from London and had anticipated a quiet meeting but it was not to be.

At least there was nothing in the room she could throw at him. “Camille –“ he tried, but he should have known it would be useless.

“Don’t _Camille_ me! You lost that right when you decided to keep playing dead!”

“They needed an undercover agent” he tried, “Someone with enough experience when it came to solving murders, and my death came handy for them –“

“And for you! You couldn’t wait to get away, could you?”

He found that a little unfair, especially since, unbeknownst to anyone, he’d actually started searching for a proper house on Saint Marie shortly before his attempted murder.

He’d wanted to stay. Stay on St Marie, stay their Chief of police, stay with –

But that way lay madness. He’d told himself that over and over again in the last three years. Even if he had stayed, it would have led to nothing. Camille was after all a beautiful, intelligent, desirable woman; what would she ever have seen it him?

Yes, it had been for the best to leave these dreams behind him.

He certainly hadn’t needed the reminder that she would have hated the very sight of him by proving exactly that.

He was trying to calmly explain what had led to him working undercover now, and how it would have been dangerous to let anyone know he was alive – his own parents were unaware that he had survived, and probably all the happier for it, he knew he’d always been a disappointment to is father – when she huffed and stabbed her finger into his chest, like she had done so long ago when she had let him know, rightly, that she was working with him and not for him and that as his sergeant, she had every right to put him in his place if she felt the need.

“And why do you think that even matters?”

“I was just attempting to explain –“

“You let us think you were dead.” Her voice dropped. “You let me think you were dead.”

“As I pointed out, it wasn’t my intention originally to –“

“It wasn’t your intention!?”

Obviously he had not chosen his words carefully enough. “In many ways, the decision was made for me” he explained, “Really, it was a miracle I even survived, and then –“

“But did you never – didn’t you think we’d want to know?”

She still looked angry, but now there was something else in her expression, too – something he could neither interpret nor thought he’d seen before.

“I –“ he decided to tell her the truth. “Yes. I did. But I the end, I decided it was better this way.” It had simply been easier, more convenient – to imagine that someone actually missed him, thought fondly of him, rather than simply acing “Who’s this?” if he should ever choose to make contact –

“ _Better_!? Why in God’s name is it better to think you dead than alive!????”

“I – “ In truth, he should have told her that he’d been sure they wouldn’t have cared enough, but looking at her, he couldn’t bring himself to. So he quietly continued, “I might have been mistaken.”

“You might have been –“

“I’m sorry” he interrupted her.

Her shoulders shook for a moment, and she turned away; but before he could wonder if she would leave the room, she answered, “I know you are.”

Why she’d been shouting at him then, he couldn’t say – but he did understand that he’d be angry. B God, did he understand. “I really considered it the best for everyone involved –“

“That’s just it. I know you did.”

“I’m sorry?” he tried again. “If you feel uncomfortable working with me, I can always request that someone else –“

“No! I am not letting you out of my sight again!”

Secretly, even if he couldn’t comprehend, he was relieved; apart from… everything else (and there admittedly was _a lot_ of else) he was looking forward to working with the best partner he’d ever had again.

“In that case, we should…”

He didn’t quite get why she should look so exasperated when he went on to explain the case, so he simply moved forward.

* * *

He’d never enjoyed stake-outs with others much, and now that he found himself in close proximity to Camille again, it was more difficult than ever; but he surely wouldn’t risk the delicate balance they had found by making any personal remarks or – God forbid – unwanted advances, so he mostly kept silent.

Eventually, Camille surprised him once more (when had she not?) as she said, “This can’t have been easy for you, either.”

It took him a moment to understand what she was speaking of. Then he carefully replied “I – mostly I was confused, in the beginning. It was… a rather close call.”

“I know. I found you.”

He’d never known that. “Camille…”

“There he is.”

And they were on the move once more.

And if their suspect’s testimony later proved that he and Camille had to pursue their inquiries in London, and he wouldn’t lose her again for a while yet, he kept his happiness to himself.

**Two weeks later**

If there was one custom he had kept from his days before he’d been deeply undercover, it was that he avoided any office Christmas party, and so he was busy reading when his bell rang.

Due to the very nature of his work these days, this happened so rarely that it actually startled him; he opened carefully to find Camille in –

Oh. He remembered that dress. He remembered that dress very well indeed. She’d worn it on the night of the Erzulie festival, when for a brief second, he’d thought…

Not that it mattered.

He cleared his throat. “Camille! Is there an emergency?”

“You can say that again!” she swept into his small flat, but since she sounded playful rather than angry or stressed, he was rather confused. “I find you again, and even after all these years where I believed you dead, I get to hear that you don’t come to the office Christmas party!”

“You know me” he said flatly. “Biggest party animal on the block. I’ll be with your shortly.”

“Oh, don’t be like that! Come on! Let’s go!”

As he realized that she most definitely expected him to come with her, and that she most likely wouldn’t take no for an answer – like in the old days – he could only hasten to replay, “No, wait a minute, I have to get dressed…”

She stared at him. “What for?”

“Well, I can’t go to the office like this!” A simple shirt and jeans? He was no heathen!

She looked him over again, making him feel rather self-conscious, then sighed. “Fine. But no tie.”

Fearing that she might actually go to the lengths of cutting it off, he resigned himself to that fate.

* * *

His colleagues were surprised to see him, and with the new, French undercover agent on his arm, too – for Camille wouldn’t let go of him as they entered the room, and quite frankly, he didn’t mind one bit.

“See?” she demanded of him later, after she had somehow (he wasn’t quite clear as to the specifics) succeeded in dragging him onto the dancefloor. “Aren’t you glad you came, now?”

He had to admit that he was, and the smile she sent his way made it more than worth it.

Camille was an excellent dancer, with some obvious training when it came to ballroom-dancing, as well; and so he was rather surprised when, against the rules, she suddenly dragged him into a corner. Assuming he’d done something wrong – maybe stepped on her toes – he wanted to ask when she pointed upwards.

He looked up and sported the mistletoe. Oh. Now this was rather –

But wait, she had brought him here on purpose, hadn’t she? But why would she –

Her hand on his breast brought most of his thought processes to an immediate standstill. “Richard.”

A pause.

Should he say something? Trouble was, he had problems to come up with a coherent sentence, looking into her eses under the –

“I know this won’t be easy. We definitely need to talk, and quite a bit at that; but at the same time – I should have done this years ago.”

If he had had the time to think about it, he would perhaps have considered it equally (if not more) probably that she was about to hit him rather than kiss him, but he didn’t complain when it turned into the later.

**Three weeks later**

“I’m not sure…” he said carefully, looking at the house he hadn’t entered in over four years.

Camille gently touched his hand. “They’ll be thrilled to see you, mon cœur, I’m sure.”

As always when she called him by her new nickname, he blushed. I just –“

“They are your parents.”

Yes, and he had even missed them over the years, in a vague sort of way; but would they really be happy to see him?

“We don’t have to go in” she then told him, but he shook his head. He’d made his decision, and he would adhere to it.

Ten minutes later, being hugged tightly by both his mother and father, he wondered why he had ever hesitated to begin with.

**Three months later**

Now that he actually had a reason for it, it had been remarkably easy to leave undercover behind, just like Camille; despite their assurances towards one another that they were in no hurry, by now, there were rings on their fingers and he woke up every morning wondering how on earth he’d gotten so lucky. It didn’t make any sense, but then, he wasn’t complaining – for the first time in his life, as Camille had been quick to point out.

Once they had been certain that this was what they wanted, they had naturally talked about the future (Camille only smiling at him as he pulled out a notebook to make a list of pois and cons); and once that had been dealt with, their way had been clear.

After all, Saint Marie was still waiting for a permanent Chief of Police, and the best Sergeant the island had ever seen was more than ready to become Inspector…

There had been some more shouting, and tears as well, as they had called their old friends to let them know Richard was alive and well. Catherin’s tears had surprised him the most.

“Do you have everything, mon cœur?” Camille asked lightly, undoubtedly remembering that they had managed to lose his luggage twice before.

He took her hand. “I do. Let’s go home.”


End file.
